You Are My Sunshine
by Choco-Latte TimTams
Summary: You are my sunshine, my only sunshine; You make me happy, when skies are grey; You never know dear, how much I love you; Please don't take my sunshine away...


You Are My Sunshine

A.N: Hey guise! It's Timtam here. This is a fic I like, wrote in like, 20 minutes. Choco edited it and wrote like another page. It's USUK. Songfic. So yah. I think I used the word like too many times... So yah. Please review, tell me what's good or bad in the fic. Hellooo~

I'm invading this fic because I can~ I hope you enjoy the fic! please R&R~ Choco

SO yah. ENJOY~

 _(You are my sunshine, my only sunshine)_

Everything used to be so dark... There used to be no meaning to his existence... He had thought that he didn't want to live anymore. He believed he could just die. There was nothing worth living for. The rain that fell upon his land every day, the odd looks he got on the street when people noticed him.

The world used to be so dark until America came into his life.

He remembered the day he fought France, eventually gaining custody of the small nation. It would bring a bittersweet smile onto his face. And the bright, energetic grin on America's face when he visited him - so unlike the disgusted faces he was greeted with at home.

" _Do you spend your life in pubs?_ "

" _Mummy, why does that man look so weird?_ "

He had already got used to the comments he would receive every so often, and his fellow nations would be no different. They would call him a barbarian, a pirate. They would insult him with his obligations as a nation.

" _The black sheep of Europe_." France had always called him " _You don't belong in Europe._ "

His brothers were no different. Scotland, Northern Ireland and Wales were his guardians when he was young. He grew up knowing his obligations as a nation. He followed his bosses' orders, invading other nations without a second thought. He knew he had killed hundreds, if not thousands of people in battle. He knew that everyone would hate him.

 _But why?_

 _Why?_

Why did he spend those days of his childhood stealing from other nations? Why did he call the magical creatures his only friends?

 _Do you have no friends?_

He knew that from the start. The start of his life as a nation. He would pursue his goals alone. Acting out his obligations, no matter how heartless.

He had already had enough of his life.

He had had enough of it since the day he was born.

" _Is THAT our brother?_ " Were the first words he heard when he first came into being.

Then he met America.

The little nation would peek out from the tall grass of the new continent.

"Let's go home."

 _(You make me happy, when skies are grey)_

He watched America run around in the fields, laughing with a soft voice that sounded so unlike the mocking laughs that he was used to. He smiled to himself. He would sit there all day watching America running around joyously.

And then, he promised himself that he would do anything to make sure America would never have to suffer the life he had - that he would always remain like this.

Happy and carefree.

The new nation would live in a country of eternal sunshine.

 _(You never know dear, how much I love you)_

They were on the battlefield.

For the first time ever, his colony was raining. Gloomily. Just like his homeland.

America was fighting for his independence.

Why? WHY?

He thought he had done everything in his power to let America be happy.

So why… _Why?_ Why was his gun was pointed at America's head?

"No…" He muttered as thousands of soldiers aimed their weapons at him.

 _No._

 _He would never let America live the life he had._

 _He would never give up on America._

He knew he had to shoot America. He knew the young nation would lose the innocence he once had. He knew America would have to live through the same things as he himself had.

But he couldn't do it. He couldn't bring himself to shoot America.

He couldn't shoot the one who brought a ray of sunshine into his dark, rainy, world.

He knew that he couldn't shoot from the beginning.

He felt the bayonet slip between his fingers, landing on the ground with a wet splat. He fell to his knees, his face buried in his hands, sobbing. He just couldn't shoot. How could he, when he loved America so much?

 _How could he shoot the only person that had faced him with such a carefree happiness?_

"You used to be so big….."

He felt his world falling apart as America walked away.

 _(Please don't take my sunshine away)_


End file.
